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Wednesday, January 18, 2012

Theologically speaking, is there any problem for a
Christian not to pray in Jesus’ name? In other words, cannot a Christian—like
a Jew or a Muslim—pray authentically in the name of God?

Grace:

The short answer to that question is “Yes,
absolutely!” That is why I have no hesitation when praying in interfaith settings
by saying, “In Your Most Holy Name we pray.” Christians, like Jews and Muslims,
believe in One God and that God is One.Trinitarian Christians believe that God is expressed in three
“persons”—or in three ways—as Creator, Redeemer and Sustainer. We believe that the nature of God is most fully revealed
in the person of Jesus Christ—that
is, in Jesus, human and divine are completely united.Because we look to Jesus as “the Way” for
humans to know the fullness of God, we often conclude our prayers in Jesus’
name.The phrasing is not intended to be
exclusionary, but how can it sound otherwise to a non-Christian? When I pray
publicly in God’s name and omit Jesus’ name, I do so not because I fear
offending others, but because I wish to express my belief that we are all children
of God and that God’s great love extends to all—without limit, without
condition and without exception.

Yasmina:

Grace, I thank you for
your heartfelt explanation. I appreciate sensitive people like you
who are aware of the beliefs of their audience. The reason why Muslims would
feel uncomfortable if prayers are concluded in Jesus’ name is not because they
do not believe in him, but because they do not consider him as divine. That
word is reserved for God alone. It might surprise some Christians to know that
Jesus [Peace and Blessings be upon him] is an honored prophet in Islam. Both
his birth and the birth of his mother Mary [Peace and Blessings be upon her] are
beautifully captured in the Quran. Beloved to Muslims, both are considered examples
of righteousness and uprightness. Having
said that, they are considered human, and praying to them is therefore not
appropriate in Islam.

Tziporah:

While I was eavesdropping
on your conversation, my thoughts wandered to a volunteer luncheon I attended
some years ago at an interfaith-based charity. We all bent our heads as the
Pastor led us in the grace before the meal.He quoted from psalms and blessed the work of the volunteers’ hands, and
then he concluded by saying, “in the name of Jesus Christ our Lord, Amen.” I
felt unable to respond “Amen,” because the word “amen” comes from the Hebrew
root “believe,” and Jews do not believe Jesus to be the Christ (messiah). I
remember feeling frustrated, since I agreed with the sentiment of his prayer
and wished to respond.I don’t think that he intended to exclude anyone from his prayers—he must have been unaware
of the presence of those who do not accept Jesus’ divinity.I wish I had been in possession then of
Grace’s lucid explanation of why Christians pray in this manner.The Pastor’s words authentically expressed
the prayer from his heart. Distracted by my own emotions, I may have missed the
depth of emotion he was sharing with us.

Wednesday, January 11, 2012

“Shout praise to God,
all the earth. Serve God with joy; come before Him with singing….Enter His
gates with thanksgiving, His courtyards with praise.”

(Psalms 100:1-2, 4)

Tziporah:

I have been reading this
psalm regularly because one of my resolutions for the New Year was to express my
gratitude daily. I even set my phone’s
alarm to alert me—with the soothing strains of the harp—to draw my mind
away from the tasks before me and toward God.
Although I have been pretty successful at establishing prayerful
moments, I still lack the motivation to attend synagogue services. I love the idea
of entering God’s gates with song, but find myself craving solitude and
silence. For Jews, the ideal is to
worship God together with at least 9 other Jews. And Jews pray loudly—with
plenty of communal singing—from a prayer book that contains many words. Praying alone is permissible, but even then
the ideal is to say the words aloud, if only in a whisper. As a result, the opportunity for silence in synagogue is scarce. Recently, I reluctantly admitted to Yasmina
that I suffer from spiritual envy: her mosque is such a peaceful environment
and so conducive to prayer. At the same time, I long to hear the familiar
melodies; to sing boldly and joyously in God’s courtyard. My soul yearns to
shout praise to God but, for the moment, my mouth won’t cooperate.

Grace:

Tziporah, I love your New
Year’s resolution, especially your "call to prayer" with the harp! During times of Christian celebration, as in
the recent season of Christmas, I am eager to sing, and to do so boldly and
joyously in communal worship. In times
of sorrow or penance, however, I may enter God’s courtyard with thanksgiving but
without song. For example, during the
penitential season of Lent we deliberately omit the singing of “Alleluias.” But
I, too, feel the craving for deeper solitude and peace, apart from community. In those times, I love taking private retreat,
usually in total silence, for the renewal of my spirit. Silence often opens my heart to the many ways
I can serve God with joy and allows me to enter God’s gates—whether in a house
of worship or elsewhere—with singing and praise from the soul, even as my voice
is silent!

Yasmina:

I regularly listen to my
favorite Quran reciter and love the opportunity to feel the resonance of the
words; the meaning, the sounds, the rhythm and the melody. My appreciation of each recitation is a little different, depending on where I am
physically, emotionally and spiritually. Like both of you, I enjoy solitary
prayer time, as well as prayer in community. Some communal prayers are said aloud
by the prayer leader, while others are offered in complete silence. For this
reason, I get a taste of different prayerful moments every day, as the echo of the
sounds of the Quranic recitations, the calls to prayer, and the silent praise
of worshipers is preserved in time and space. As a Muslim, I believe that the
sense of peace at the mosque that you alluded to, Tziporah, is a result of these
daily occurrences, which have no ultimate goal other than to grant those
taking part in them entry into the gates of the All Merciful.

Wednesday, January 4, 2012

We begin the year with a post that reflects what we
have learned from our survey: You are interested in the personal conversations
we have as we develop our responses to the sacred texts. This conversation
began when Tziporah emailed Yasmina to ask about attending Friday prayers at
the mosque. Grace joined in, agreeing
that the email exchanges formed the backbone of a blog post. While we continue to add new texts on Wednesdays, we invite you to join our conversation by commenting
below or responding to the survey.

* * * * * * *

“Whatever beings there are in the heavens and the
earth prostrate themselves to God, with good will or in spite of themselves; so
do their shadows in the morning and evenings.”

(al-Ra’d 13:15)

Tziporah

When I visit the mosque, I
always feel a little awkward during the prostrations because this is not a
typical posture of Jewish prayer. Jews used to prostrate—known in the
literature as “falling on one’s face”—as a sign of devotion and humility.
Most notably, when the High Priest entered the Holy of Holies on Yom Kippur, he
used to prostrate and ask forgiveness on behalf of the people. Nowadays,
some Jews perform full prostrations on the High Holidays in remembrance of this
custom, but usually only the leader of the congregation prostrates. As I
understand the evolution of liturgical practice, we gave up prostration after
the destruction of the Temple in Jerusalem (70 C.E.), because the Holy of Holies
no longer existed and the rabbis who re-envisioned Judaism pretty much put the
Temple functionaries out of work. We still bow at the knee and waist in key
sections of the liturgy, but these bows are carefully choreographed NOT to be
full prostration or kneeling. The rules against bowing
reflect the tendency of the rabbis to forbid “worshiping like our neighbors,”
and likely arose as these postures became common in Christian and Muslim
prayer.

Yasmina

I understand your feelings
about prostration because it is unusual to you—and I am not saying that you
should do it—but I wanted to offer some insight as to its meaning in Islam.
Muslims are taught that prostration is the position in which they are closest to God
because of the humility it represents; it is the physical expression of the submission of the heart. What we say in this position is "Praise
be to My Lord, Most-High," three times at minimum. Then we may prolong
our prostration to include supplications to God for good health, guidance, etc.
The Quran mentions that many prophets prostrated before God. Even the magicians
that challenged Moses [Peace and Blessings be upon him] finally relented and bowed low: “So the magicians were
thrown down to prostration; they said, ‘We believe in the Lord of Aaron and
Moses.’” (Ta Ha 20:70) In fact, the
Quran says that all creatures prostrate to God (see above). I included the verses because I
knew you would ask me for them! Checking references is a great habit to cultivate, especially
in our days when so many things are taken out of context.

Grace

I am inspired by your
conversation and happy to add some information about physical expressions of
prayer in various Christian practices. Prayer
postures vary among Christians of different denominations. However, full
prostration is not customary in Christianity except when a monk or nun takes
Solemn Vows to lead a monastic life. Catholics
traditionally show reverence at the church altar by bowing or genuflecting, and
stand or kneel for prayer. Protestant
Christians are typically more restrained, sitting quietly and reverentially
with bowed heads. Pentecostal Christians often raise their arms and hands,
sometimes swaying their bodies to welcome God’s Holy Spirit. All of these
postures convey the supplicant’s humility and adoration towards God. Some Christians,
during and following prayer, make the sign of the Cross over the upper torso,
sometimes also signing the Cross three times in miniature on forehead, lips,
and heart: “God in my thinking, in my speaking, in my being.” Because prayer is both corporate and
personal, the movements during prayer—like the words of prayer itself—can be
highly prescribed or completely spontaneous.